The Gain of a Loss
by Miss Elisha
Summary: The war is over, and the many losses have driven many people closer together: Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny, Fred and Angelina. Where does that leave George? Written preDH and now AU. Outtakes and oneshots are also posted!
1. Before I Knew Her

Christmas was odd that year, an uncanny mix of sadness and glee, both pungent and stretched to bursting. We all tried to focus on the more positive side of things. Actually, Mum tried to force the cheer down our throats, but we were all eager to go along. And really, there were so many things to be happy about: weddings and pregnancies and the holidays themselves and the simple fact that the war was over and Voldemort defeated.

But the sadness behind everyone's eyes could not be denied. While the Burrow seemed still just as crowded as ever, the people who were missing took up most of the space. Everyone saw them, everyone felt them, everyone knew they were there. Everyone felt responsible for at least one of the deaths.

I suppose Harry felt most responsible of all, for every single person who died in the war, and not just the ones he knew. But no one blamed him. He was our savior; no one would ever blame him. Except himself. Perhaps strangely, perhaps understandably, he was the happiest: he had lost the most, but he had also gained the most. I was glad he was with us, glad of the chance to see his reaction to it all on this occasion.

We all had losses that affected us more personally than others, and we all reacted differently. For the most part, those of us who survived were driven closer together, closer to someone in particular. Ron and Hermione, of course (though they didn't need a loss for that), and Harry and Ginny, who made quite a show of it, and Fred and Angelina, who never could decide what they were or weren't.

Ironically enough, it was that last combination, that loss that wasn't really a loss, that led me to her.

When you're a twin, your entire life is spent as a half. Especially in the case of Fred and myself, I would say. Some twins can achieve individuality—the Patils, for example, even ended up in different houses—but Fred and I never even considered it. Why would we want to be separate when we worked so much better together?

I think some part of us always knew, though, that as much as we were to each other, there would come a time when we would want something the other couldn't provide, someone the other couldn't be. So when Fred and Angelina got serious, well, I couldn't really hold it against him. I knew what it felt like, that desire for contact not only physical but emotional, spiritual, and complete. Fred is a big part of who I am, always will be, but there's a part of each of us that the other could never touch. It took Angelina for him, and I was thankful he had her. At least one of us could be whole, and it helped me to know that he was. It made me happy that they were together, that they could be together, really it did.

But the truth of it was that his gain, our family's gain, was my solitary loss, the loss of a part of myself, and it made me sad, and lonely, and it made me feel the absence of Lee even more sharply, as he'd been the one I'd always hung around when Fred was otherwise occupied. And now that he was gone I found myself tinkering in the shop, or more often wandering around aimlessly, losing myself in the jubilation that was Diagon Alley after the war.

And that, too, led me to her.

I think she was a little lost herself. Of course, there are those who say Luna's always been a little lost, but that's only because they don't know her. When she's herself she always knows exactly where she is, and who she is, more than anyone I've ever known. But in those days she wasn't quite herself. Neither was I, so we ended up meeting somewhere out there in space.

The first meeting I recall with her was at the Leaky Cauldron. This was in October, I think. Fred and Angelina had been holed up in the flat for hours already, and it was only lunchtime. I'd spent the morning organizing things at the shop, but really there wasn't much to be done. The war had affected Verity more than we would have guessed, as she'd had no one to lose in the first place, and she became utterly devoted to her work, cleaning and ordering and balancing and taking care of basically everything. And I was moping about, so she kicked me out, saying my attitude was bad for business (though it's beyond me how anything could have been bad for business right then—the whole world was celebrating, and we had a rather large portion of the celebratory market). But she kicked me out, and since I couldn't go back to the flat I set about my now normal meander.

I must have been in some state, because I didn't even notice the rain until it started to trickle down my pant legs into my boots. There were a lot of things I didn't notice that day.

I looked up to find myself at the end of the Alley, so I went into the Leaky to grab a bite of lunch. I dried myself off with my wand, mumbled something to Tom, who by this time knew my regular order, and slid myself into a dark booth in the corner. I didn't notice her sitting there until she spoke, despite how close I had actually sat beside her.

"Oh, hello George," she said, and I couldn't tell if it was a sigh or just that dreamy quality her voice always carried. "Can I help you?"

"Help me?" I was startled by her presence, and by my lack thereof. And due to our positions in the booth, it was painfully obvious even to me that she had been there first and that I was, in fact, the invader, so there was no way to cover my tracks. "No, I… all the other seats were taken." I looked around the room to discover it half empty.

Luna didn't seem to notice though, or didn't make any note of it if she did. "Oh," was all she said, and she turned her attention back to the latest copy of _The Quibbler_, on which she was scribbling notes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, and was suddenly afraid that I'd sounded too harsh, or too blunt. But that was before I knew her well.

"I'm correcting these articles. They got it all wrong."

"Wrong? Isn't that _The Quibbler_?" I didn't know if that meant 'Of course it's wrong!' or 'How could it be wrong if it's your paper?'

"Yes, but without my father to keep them straight, the reporters get all their facts confused." This time it was definitely a sigh. "This one says that he saw Stubby Boardman at a party thrown by one of the Weird Sisters last week, but I saw him die a couple of years ago."

"It could have been his ghost," I said without thinking. It might have been a joke, or at the very least my attempt to humour her.

She didn't think it was funny though. Her face got serious, and she pondered it for a moment, then said, "No, I don't think so. Harry never said anything about his ghost, and I'm sure he would have. I think he misses his godfather very much."

_Oh. Right. _That_ Stubby Boardman._ "Good point," I answered, nodding.

A moment later Tom brought my lunch, and all of a sudden I felt very awkward at having taken over her table, but also that it would be rude of me to leave abruptly, so I asked if she would like for me to buy her some lunch as well.

"No thank you, George, I've already eaten, but you go ahead. I don't mind that you're sitting here." She looked at me with her wide, silvery eyes, and her honesty and openness were shockingly clear on her face.

"Erm…thanks, Luna." She turned back to her paper and continued taking notes, and I rather self-consciously tucked into my lunch.

When I finished eating I excused myself to pay my bill, not having any idea of what else to say to her, and when I turned around she was standing so close behind me I almost ran into her. "Where are you going, George?" she asked. "Are you going back to your joke shop?"

I hadn't really thought that far ahead, but when it came right down to it I supposed that returning to the shop was as good a course as any. "Yeah, I guess."

"Can I walk with you? It seems so colorful and happy there. I think I would like to be around that right now." Again she locked my eyes with her own, and I could see the grief that she had already accepted lying just below the surface, and felt my own, more tangible, well in my throat.

I nodded and extended my hand toward the door. She tucked her paper inside her robes for safekeeping, then headed outside without another word.

We walked in the rain, neither of us trying to hurry or block the downpour in any way. Luna would occasionally close her eyes and turn her face up to the sky and smile slightly, and while the sight of her made me want to do the very same thing, I didn't feel that it was my place, like I'd be mocking her somehow, and that was not my intent. So I watched, and we walked, and we both got willingly soaked.

I found myself mesmerized by her ability to simply _be_, and before we got back to the shop I surprised us both by turning her toward me with a hand on her arm, unable to stop the words that spilled out. "How can you do that? How can you smile and enjoy the rain? How can you make it stop?"

Her expression changed to a mixture of pity and curiosity. "You feel stuck, don't you, George?" Her question struck me hard, unsettling in its accuracy, and I could only nod my agreement. I don't think I really expected her to know what I was talking about. I wasn't sure I knew what I was talking about. "It doesn't go away, and you can't make it stop. But the smiling and the enjoying, that's what makes it ok," she answered, and it was the most logical answer I'd heard in a long time.

We continued our walk in silence, and she stopped in front of the shop to watch our window display cycle through its various colours, but I opened the door and ushered her in out of the rain. There were surprisingly few people there, even for such a rainy day, and Verity was behind the counter going over the legers. She looked up when we entered, and I gave her my best attempt at a smile, earning a look of confusion in return. I shook my head at her and proceeded to dry myself off as Luna did the same.

Before I finished I heard her gasp, and turned to find her gazing around in blatant wonder. "Luna, would you like me to show you around?"

"I'd like that very much, George," she answered, never losing her expression of amazement.

I spent the next hour showing her each of the items we had produced, eliciting varying responses (my explanation of the Skiving Snackboxes earned me a "Why would you want to do that?" while the fake wand that turned into a haddock sent her into a fit of raucous laughter). We worked our way around the shop, and when we made it to the back she tilted her head and looked at the black curtain hanging over the entrance to the next room with curiosity. "What's back there, George? Is that where you do all of your business things?"

It wasn't a secret what we had in the back room: our line of defensive products. And I certainly wasn't trying to hide it from her in particular, as I knew she'd not only been in the D.A. back in her Hogwarts' days but also that she'd fought in a number of battles beside Harry and the others, more than I had and at a younger age. But right then I didn't want to show her, didn't want to remind her of the war in any way, especially when she seemed to be having so much fun. "Oh, you don't want to go back there. Maybe some other time, a nicer day than today. We'll likely be shutting it down soon anyway, as I'm sure demand will drop."

She studied my face for a moment, then said, "I'm not sure there could be a nicer day than today, but you can show me when you're ready."

Suddenly I felt very foolish. "Oh, no, Luna," I stammered. "That's not what I meant. I just… the sun should be shining for such things, and the world not quite as dark."

"Oh," was her only reply.

Just then Fred bounded into the shop. "Ho, brother, what have we got here?"

Before I could open my mouth, Luna turned and answered him. "George was just showing me around your shop. It's very nice. The two of you must have a lot of interesting days here."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said. He looked like he was about to continue the conversation, but Luna cut him off.

"I think I should probably go now," she announced. Turning back to me, she smiled and said, "Thank you for keeping me company this afternoon, George. I've had a nice time. Let me know when you're ready to show me what's in the back room." Then she wafted away, back into the rain.

I watched after her, caught in a sort of daze, recognizing that it had been a strangely comfortable few hours, relaxed and unassuming.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, pulling me back to my strained present.

"Oh, nothing. I ran into her at the Leaky Cauldron and she said she'd like to see the shop, so I brought her. That's all."

"Why couldn't you show her the defense stuff?"

"I don't know," I answered, pondering that very thing. "She came here to be happy, and I think I just didn't want to ruin it for her by dragging up bad memories."

"We've all got our bad memories, George," Verity added softly from her place beside the counter. "They hardly need dragging up."

I could think of no suitable reply to that.

But Fred said, "You may be right, but that doesn't mean we should mope about all day. What have you got for us to do, Verity my sweet?"

Though I wouldn't have guessed had I been asked, Verity had a list of things for us to do around the shop for the rest of the day. Mostly it was mindless tasks, and I ended up thinking about the time I had spent with Luna and what I had known about her. It didn't amount to much in either case.

But I felt some odd connection to her now, like she saw me as an individual rather than part of a set, and like she understood my grief in relation to, or perhaps because of her own. More importantly, I felt a little less lonely than I had in a good while.

That night I found myself lying awake, and my thoughts weren't quite as positive as they had been by the light of day. The thing running through my head was how I had denied Luna access to our defensive section. She had every right to see those products, as did everyone else. Any other day she could have simply wandered in and gone directly there, but the fact that I had just had lunch with her, spent some amount of time with her, however small, paying attention to how she felt and caring about how she would react… well, it changed how I felt about the situation. Obviously. She'd done so much for my mood just by being there, even if her presence was somewhat of an accident, that I felt it would have been in very bad fashion to end our visit on such a depressing note.

But the truth was that I felt guilty about denying her anything when she had been nothing but kind, welcoming, and somewhat helpful to me, even when I had done so for what I thought to be a good reason, and my brain would not let me sleep with that on my conscience. After tossing and turning well into the morning, I made up my mind that I would look for her at the Leaky Cauldron again the next day, and if I did not find her there, I would owl her and invite her to explore the rest of the shop. She could even see our office and our experimenting room if she wanted, just so there would be no hard feelings.

Again, this was before I knew her well.

But I was up unnecessarily early the next morning, and in the shop before even Verity arrived. When she came in I was whistling and manually gift-wrapping one of the fake wands to take to Luna as a peace offering. "What's got you in such a good mood?" she asked almost as soon as she saw me.

"Must there be a reason? Am I not allowed to be cheerful?" I replied with false affront.

But she didn't press the issue, merely raised an eyebrow and gave me a look of disbelief, then changed the subject. "Don't forget to mark whatever's in that box down in the inventory register. I just reconciled it last night."

"Already done, love." I flashed her a smile just as I finished tying the bow around the package. Once upon a time she had grimaced each and every time Fred or I had used this sort of endearment with her—and that's exactly why we did it—but she was so used to it now that she just rolled her eyes and went into the back to hang up her cloak.

I busied myself all morning with more menial tasks, straightening items around the shop, helping customers, whatever I could find to do. The truth was I was getting a bit nervous as the lunch hour drew nearer, and I needed to stay occupied. I couldn't have told you then what I was nervous about, specifically. Luna was just a new friend when I had lost my old ones, the gift was simply to show her I hadn't meant any offense, and I was going to show her the rest of the shop because I had been foolish for wanting to hide it from her in the first place. Why should I be nervous about that, much less excited?

At around 11:15 I could stand it no longer, so I told Verity I was off to lunch and grabbed my dragon hide jacket and the gift I had wrapped for Luna and headed off. It really was a much nicer day than the one before; the sun was at least trying to shine, and the rain had stopped for the moment, and there were people in the streets en masse. This time I didn't meander, I simply headed straight for the Leaky Cauldron.

When I arrived I told Tom to hold my order off for a bit, then looked around the room carefully for a blond head curled over a newspaper, but she wasn't there. I sat myself in a booth facing the door so I'd be sure to see when she came in, and sat the package on the table in front of me.

I sat there for about an hour before I ordered my lunch, and perhaps another 30 minutes after I finished eating with no sign of Luna. And judging from the amount of people out and about, Verity was probably cursing me for being gone so long. So, with a sigh and the decision to owl her the gift and a note as soon as I returned to the joke shop, I threw some coins onto the table and left.

While I had walked with purpose and direction on my way to lunch, my return trip was a definite wander. I was more crestfallen than I would have expected at not seeing her again, and the disappointment threatened to send me back into the previous morning's melancholy.

But then there she was, sitting at a table outside of Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, which had only recently been reopened by a nephew of the former proprietor, licking a very large ice cream cone and holding _The Quibbler_ up in front of her so she could read at the same time.

As I approached her, I saw even more red markings on the paper than there had been the day before, and as I watched her she dropped it back to the table to make more corrections. I hadn't thought about it before, but it occurred to me then that editing _The Quibbler_ on her own was perhaps her way of dealing with her father's death, another reason she was able to smile.

"Hello, Luna," I said from behind her, hoping to surprise her. Again I say, this was before I knew her well.

"Hi, George," she replied without looking up. "Did you come looking for me?"

"Well, uh, yeah," I said, moving around the table to see her more directly. "I thought I'd show you the rest of the joke shop today. It is a bit brighter out, after all."

She finally stopped writing and looked up at me with a wide smile. "Yes, it is at that."

"And I brought you something." I flourished the slender box in front of me, then sat it down on top of her paper. "To apologise."

She looked at the box quizzically. "For what?"

I had more wits about me this time, and I gestured to the chair across from her and waited for her to nod before I sat. "I'm very sorry I didn't show you the rest of the shop yesterday. It was rude of me, and there was no reason for me to keep it from you." She just stared at me, so I rambled on, unable to stop. "I know that you're a very talented witch, and you have every right, more right than most, actually, to see our line of defensive products. You've done more to protect us than almost anyone, really, and it wasn't right of me to keep you out. So I'm sorry, and I want to take you there and show you everything this afternoon, if that's alright with you."

"Your defensive products?" she asked without changing her expression.

"That's what behind the black curtain in our shop. I just thought that showing you yesterday might, you know, bring up bad memories or something, and I was having such a nice time I didn't want to ruin it. But it's not like either one of us is bound to forget, so there's no reason to try to hide it, right?" I knew I was rambling, but I couldn't help it.

"You had a nice time?" Somehow I managed to notice that her voice was ever so slightly higher than normal, her eyes slightly wider, and I realised that this is what Luna Lovegood looks like when she is surprised.

"Yes, Luna, I did," I replied, looking her straight in the eye. "And I'd like the chance to do it again."

Over the course of the next two months, Luna and I "ran into" each other more often than one could reasonably attribute to coincidence. There were times when I would go looking specifically for her and I'd find her somewhere random, the bookstore or Madam Malkin's or the Owl Emporium. But there were more times when I wasn't looking but she was there anyway. Once I even saw her at Gringotts. Sometimes I wonder if those were the days that she was looking for me.

But it doesn't really matter, because, in the end, I think we were looking for each other the whole time.

So we spent more time together, got to know each other a little better, had someone just to talk to whenever we needed without being judged. I learned to navigate her peculiar sense of humour, and somehow altered mine to suit hers better. Fred and I had always been jokesters, always done anything for a laugh, always loved the very sound of it, but her laughter was simply intoxicating, loud and unabashed and just a little mad around the edges. As the days went on, I found myself craving that laughter, and I'd do anything to hear it.

Of course I didn't admit any of that to myself at the time. At the time she was a friend, a flicker of light in my dismal days, an escape from my grief and my loneliness, and I hoped I was the same for her. She was someone to talk to and a source of peculiarity.

And then it was Christmas, and things changed.


	2. Transition Complete

I was up early Christmas morning, and when I went into the kitchen for a bite of breakfast Fred was already there drinking a cup of tea. As soon as I walked through the door he turned and poured one for me as well. Holding the cup out to me, he gestured at the table, urging me to sit.

"What, no coffee today?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him in question.

"I need to talk to you," was his reply. "You haven't been around much, and there's some stuff I want you to know before we get to the Burrow."

"_I_ haven't been around much?" I threw at him. "I haven't been the one wrapped around Angelina for the past few months."

"Fair enough," he replied as we took our seats on opposite sides of the table.

"Speaking of Angie," I said, looking out toward the living room, "where is she? Still sleeping?"

"No, she stayed at her parents' last night. It's Christmas, you know. She wanted some time with her family before coming with me for dinner."

"She's coming to dinner at the Burrow?" I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. She'd been to family dinners before, and she was pretty entwined in Fred's life by this point.

"Well, yeah," Fred answered, suddenly looking a bit defensive. "Why shouldn't she? She's as good as family, isn't she?"

I raised my hands in surrender. "I've got no problem with it, Fred. I just didn't know is all." What was with him today?

He sniffed and leaned back into his chair, and we sat in silence for a moment. Then he blurted out, "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

I had taken a drink of my tea and almost choked on it when he spoke. I didn't mean it to be a negative reaction. I adore Angelina, and I think she's perfect for Fred. We've been friends for years. And you've got to respect a girl who plays Quidditch like she does. It was wonderful news, really. I was simply startled by his voice, and frankly by the fact that he was telling me his plans before carrying them out. Though for most of our lives telling each other what was going on in our heads wasn't even a decision to make—it was a matter of course—the past few months had found us confiding in each other less and less, and some days I had no clue what was going on in his head, nor he in mine.

"Oh, don't be surprised," he said, his defensive front coming right back up. That's another thing that had changed; though we may have debated and argued all our lives, we never actually quarreled, and we never had use for that sort of wall between us. But now there it was, and the thought of it saddened me. "It's not like you didn't see it coming."

How to get around this? Was it even possible?

"Relax, Fred," I said, hoping to show him I had meant no offense. "I just didn't figure you'd be so traditional about it, you know, _asking_ and everything. I've always thought of you as more the 'Apparate her to a chapel' type."

"Don't think I haven't considered it." He leaned forward onto the table and spun his teacup between his hands. After a moment, he said very quietly, "But I don't think she'd go for it anymore. Maybe before the war, but now… I think she'd prefer to be traditional about this."

I straightened and look at him with amused shock. "Oh my god. Fred Weasley, I do believe you've just put someone else's desires ahead of your own. I think I may faint."

He sighed a bit, and I could tell he wasn't about to respond in kind, as I had half hoped he would. Instead he lowered his gaze to the table again and said, "The war was hard on her, George. I want to make it better for her. I know I can't, but I've got to at least try, don't I? We have to grow up sometime."

With his final words he raised his head and looked me in the eye, and at that moment I knew his transition from _mine_ to _hers_ was complete.

Part of me, the ugly green part that resides in my chest, wailed and screamed and kicked at the loss it felt, on top of so many other losses, the loss it had known was coming but had been diligently trying to deny and avoid.

But the logical part of me was glad for him, and knew he was right. It had been this way between us for weeks already, months even, and I'd been so entangled in my own world that it hadn't recently bothered me.

And now it was lying there on the table between us, served to me for breakfast with a nice spot of tea, and I couldn't let it bother me ever again.

He was still staring at me, waiting for me to respond. I closed my eyes and swallowed the brick in my throat, nodding slightly. "The war was hard on everyone, Fred," was what I said. "But yes, we've got to at least try."

He smiled at me just a little, and I knew the wall of defense had come down. But another had been built in its place, and that one would remain.

"When, do you think?" I didn't need to explain.

"Soon, I hope. Within the month."

"I'll look for a flat this week, then."

His head jerked at that, his mouth slightly agape. He wasn't expecting it. Truthfully, neither was I, really, but now that it was out it seemed right. "A flat?"

"Well, I figure you and Angie will want a bit of privacy now and then, and I know how fond you are of this place," I said, gesturing to the room around us. I tried to grin, but it didn't work and came out instead as a pitiful little smirk. He gave me the exact same expression in return, and I knew he meant it the exact same way. "Besides, you said it yourself… We have to grow up sometime."

"Yeah, we do." He looked sad then, and it occurred to me that he hadn't had time to think of this situation as I had; he'd never had a chance at an outside perspective. But he'd be back to his normal self soon enough; he had Angelina to help him through, and this would be one of their happier days together.

To remind him of that, I asked, "You really love her, don't you?"

It worked, and perhaps a little too well. The look he gave me then was sheepish—actually sheepish—and if there's one thing I cannot bear to see in my twin, it's sheepishness. It's unnatural. Something had to be done.

I stretched my arms and crossed them behind my head, leaning back into my chair. "Another wedding, good! I do look smashing in dress robes."

Thankfully, he followed my lead and lightened his half of the air as well. "Of course! And besides, you know your dear Miss Lovegood will want something just as extravagant one day, so we can think of it as one more shared experience."

"Not necess—" _What?_ I could practically feel the color drain from my face, and my hands and expression both dropped. "Where did that come from?"

"What?" he shrugged. "Have you even noticed how much time you've been spending with her?"

"Well yeah. _You_ have been rather occupied, and I've been rather bored," I pointed out. "She's easy to talk to, and funnier than you've ever been."

Fred slapped his hands over his heart and flopped back into his seat. "Funnier than… You're just as loony as she is!"

"She's not loony!" I shouted, surprising both of us with my sudden vehemence. Where _did_ that come from? I took a deep breath and shook my head. "She's not loony," I said softly. "So don't say that about her. She's just… misunderstood."

Fred cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.

"We're just friends," I said, giving him a pointed look. "Like Ron and Hermione were… no, like Harry and Gin… like Harry and Hermione are, that's all!"

He chuckled and shook his head. "In any case, you'll know what it's like soon enough."

"She's not my girlfriend, Fred. Honest."

"Course not, brother mine. Of course not."

When I arrived at the Burrow, the first thing I noticed was the people, both those who were present and those who weren't. Fleur and Bill were in the garden, and she seemed to be comforting him for some unapparent reason.

As if anyone needed a reason, today of all days.

Just as I reached for the door it flung open and a rather pregnant Penelope came waddling out, followed closely by Percy. He and Mum had reconciled right after Charlie was killed, though his familial relationship hadn't been totally restored until Penelope had come into the picture. They'd simply shown up at dinner one evening and Percy had introduced her as his wife. Everyone was flat out shocked, but Mum wouldn't let Penny see any tension at all in our family, so it kind of just dissolved. And then when we learned she was pregnant, well, cooing and coddling ensued.

The instant before she ran into me she spun on her heel and drew her wand on Percy, who jerked to a stop. "Percy Ignatius Weasley, I've already told you, I'm fine! If you ask me one more time today I'll hex your bits clean off!" Good old Percy.

I chuckled a bit and pushed my way past them into the house. Lupin was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea while Mum managed the cooking. As soon as she saw me she ran over and pulled me into a hug. "George dear, where's your brother?"

"Nice to see you too, Mum. You're looking lovely today, and dinner smells heavenly."

"Oh, George, you know I'm glad to see you," she said, swatting me gently on the shoulder.

"He went to meet Angelina. They should be here in a minute or so," I told her as I removed my cloak and hung it beside the door.

"Angelina's coming too?" she asked, and it was clear that she had not been informed of Fred's plan. "Well, we'll need another place then. Would you be a dear and get your sister to help you set the table? Everyone's in the living room."

"Sure thing, Mum." I gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and she beamed as only Mum can. I waved my regards to Remus, who returned them with a small smile and a nod, then went to greet the others.

And once again there she was, sitting in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace with Hermione's cat curled up in her lap. She looked up at me and smiled brightly, causing everyone else to turn and look at me as well.

One thing was for certain: I was going to kill Fred.


	3. Loved and Lost

"George," Ginny said, perhaps mistaking my stunned expression for confusion, "you remember Luna, don't you? She was in the DA with us back at Hogwarts."

Luna laughed at that, so much that Crookshanks jumped down from her lap and ran over to Hermione. "Of course he remembers me!" Then her laughing stopped suddenly, and her expression changed to one of concern. "Unless he's been infected with Wrackspurts… Have you, George?"

"Well, if I have, I don't remember," I said as enthusiastically as I could manage, which wasn't very.

Judging from their expressions, no one else in the room remembered that Wrackspurts supposedly crawled inside your head and made your brain go fuzzy, and I think they were also surprised at seeing Luna and me having such an exchange. But Luna pursed her lips and considered my words for a moment. "No, you wouldn't, would you?"

Then I flashed her a grin to let her know I was only kidding, and after a few seconds she broke out into laughter again. The others smiled uncertainly; they might not know what we were talking about, but it was amusing to watch nonetheless.

I jumped a bit when I heard Fred behind me saying, "Is that Luna Lovegood I hear?" I hadn't even noticed him come in, but now I felt his arm go around my shoulders, and I was shoved sideways in the doorway to make room for him beside me. "Luna, how lovely to see you again! We're so glad you could join us today, aren't we, George?" He said, squeezing me against him.

"Yes, of course we are. Delighted." Shocked, perturbed, aggrieved, vexed, and delighted.

"That's nice, Fred. I'm glad to be here," she replied serenely.

"Right. So, Ginny, Mum needs your help in the kitchen," I said, jerking my head in that direction and trying to smile. "And I need a word with my brother."

I dragged him into the kitchen and spun him around to face me. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?" I hissed at him. "You had this planned all along, didn't you? Another one of your little surprises, I should have known!"

"Honestly, George," he replied, "I had nothing to do with it. I'm just as surprised as you are, though apparently more amused."

"You expect me to believe that after what you said to me this morning? I'm not quite so thick as that."

"A coincidence!" he answered. "I swear I had no idea she'd be here."

"Who, Luna?" Ginny said from right behind me. I looked around to see her, Mum, and Angelina all staring at us. Remus was pouring himself another cup of tea. "He didn't know, George, I invited her."

I spun on her then. "_You_? Why would _you_ invite her?"

"Er… because she's my friend," Ginny responded flatly, "and I didn't want her to be alone on Christmas Day. Why would Fred invite her?" I looked blankly between the two of them, and Fred smirked at me. But Ginny didn't notice and continued, "What difference does it make to you anyway? You barely know her!"

I saw a familiar flicker in Fred's eyes at that. "Oh, that's where you're wrong, Ginny. Our dear brother here has been chatting up Miss Lovegood for months now."

"I have not been chatting her up. How many times do I have to tell you, we're just friends! Besides, if you had been around for the past few months I wouldn't have had to go looking for new friends, but you buried yourself in Angelina, didn't you?"

"George!" I heard Mum snap at the same time as I saw the mischievous look drop from Fred's face. Ginny's eyes went wide and she snickered before slapping a hand over her mouth, and when I turned to offer Mum a remorseful glance I caught Angelina giving me her infamous death glare.

I really hadn't meant to say it like that.

"Just drop it, alright?" I said, turning back to Fred. I hoped he heard the apology in my words as well as the plea.

"Fine, it's dropped." So smug, he was. If I knew Fred—and I did—he might very well drop the subject for the moment, but it would come back to haunt me later. "But I have one more thing to say first."

Of course he did. "Say it."

He lowered his voice and leaned closer to me, saying, "If you're as much of a prat about Luna as Ron was about Hermione… well, that's not really trying at all, is it? It's time to grow up, George." He looked at me pointedly for a moment, then walked over to Angelina and took her hand. "Speaking of growing up, there's something I owe you, Angel."

She and Mum shared a confused glance as Fred fumbled in his pocket. After a moment he pulled out a ring and held it up between them. "I need you to marry me, so I can bury myself in you permanently."

He certainly had courage, I'll give him that.

"Fred!" Mum started, but when she realized what he had just done her anger evaporated and her face took on a purely shocked expression. Angelina's jaw dropped, and she looked like she was about to slap him. But she didn't. Of course.

After just staring at the ring for what must have felt like an eternity to Fred, Angelina nodded and extended a shaking hand to him. He slipped the ring onto her finger and his face broke into a grin. "There, that's settled then. Happy Christmas!"

And then Angelina sprung into action—literally. She threw her arms around his neck and leaped onto him, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him hard. I saw him flush, but he was laughing as well. After a moment he pulled back and took on a mockingly serious expression. "Now, now, Love, not in front of the kids," he said, throwing a glance in my direction. She slid down off of him and gave Mum an embarrassed and apologetic, but still thrilled look.

Mum had her hands pressed together in front of her and was obviously trying to hold back tears, though that proved too much of a task and they soon started flowing freely. Remus was still sitting at the table, a soft smile on his face. Ginny ran back to the living room, then out the kitchen door, and a moment later Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna came into the kitchen, followed shortly by Bill, Fleur, Percy, Penelope, and Ginny again. Commotion broke out almost immediately, and everyone gathered around Fred and Angelina.

Luna stood somewhat apart from the huddle and looked over at me with mild curiosity, and I smiled wanly in return. I had no idea which direction to go from there.

I settled for an awkward stumble to the table and taking a seat beside Remus. He turned to study my face for a moment, then slid his cup of tea over to me. "Here. You look like you need this more than I do right now."

"It's all right, I can get another."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "take this one. Trust me. Drink."

He raised an eyebrow at me, and more out of curiosity than a desire for tea I took a sip of the steaming beverage, and found it laced with something a bit stronger. My own eyebrows shot up in question. "Are you sure you don't want to keep this one for yourself?"

"Quite. Besides," he nodded his head towards Mum, "she won't say anything to _me_, will she?"

We sat in companionable silence, Remus pouring himself yet another cup of tea, as the others all filed back into the living room. Even Mum went, after flicking her wand at a few still-cooking items. I drained my cup and stood up to set the table, Ginny having completely forgotten the task previously set to her.

"I hope you don't think I'm being presumptuous, George," he started, "but it occurs to me that sometimes others can see things about us more clearly than we can see them ourselves."

It took a minute for what he was saying to sink in. And then, "You think I'm in love with her too, then?"

"I have no idea if you're in love with her. The only time even I've seen the two of you together is just now in this kitchen, and you barely so much as looked at her."

I winced at that. I hoped she wasn't offended.

Oh.

That's what everyone was seeing, everyone but me.

But that could still mean friendship, couldn't it? Friends don't want to offend each other, friends can smile, friends can joke. Just because Fred and I had never really bothered worrying about offending people doesn't mean we're incapable of it. Why did everyone assume it was more than that?

Worse yet, what if it _was_ more than that, as Fred seemed so bent on convincing me? What if it was?

Remus had started speaking again, and I'd missed the first part of what he said. "…but I do know that if you've got a chance, sometimes the only thing to do is take it."

I sank down into the seat across from him. Was it true? And even if it was, how could I take that risk? "I'm not sure I could handle it, Remus. Not after losing Dad, and Charlie, and Lee, and now even Fred in a way—though I know you probably don't get that. I feel like she's the only friend I've got left, and I can't just waste that on the off chance that I might actually…fancy her. Or that she might fancy me in return." I hadn't even considered that, and as far as I could tell, no one else had either. "I couldn't handle it if I lost her too, for whatever reason."

"Take it from me on this account, George, 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.'"

I wasn't so sure about that as he seemed to be, nevermind the fact that he was perhaps in a better position to say.

He shook his head slightly and sat up a little straighter. "Besides, the war is over. You're supposed to be living your life happy about the future, not sad about the past."

"And what about the present? Which is that?"

"I'd say that's up to you."

Mum came bustling back into the kitchen before I had a chance to respond. I'm not sure what I would have said anyway.

"Oh, thank you for setting the table, George. In all the excitement I forgot all about it." She patted me on the shoulder, then started shuffling food around, putting it in different bowls and landing them all on the table. "Tell everyone that dinner's ready, won't you?"

I stood up to fetch the others, but stopped when I saw Mum's face. She was trying so hard to make everything seem as normal and as cheerful as possible. As hard as it was for me, it must have been even worse for her, and _she_ was making an effort to be happy in spite of it.

Remus was right; we should be happy. So much good had happened, and I wasn't even seeing it. Mum was trying to show us, and I was ignoring it all.

Remus was right.

I took a deep breath and smiled at her, and she stopped in her task too and gave me a strange look, as if she was trying to decipher what was going on in my head (though I know she'd given that up long ago). I stepped to her and pulled her into a hug, whispering, "Happy Christmas, Mum."

I think I surprised her a bit, but she returned my hug, and when we broke apart, her eyes shone with fresh tears, and she said, "Yes, it is, isn't it?"

I nodded and smiled again, and she smiled too.

When I turned around, I saw Remus smirking into his cup of tea, and I wondered what else he was right about.


	4. Hands and Feet

I made a point of sitting beside her when she came to the table, even making Ron move to the other side of Hermione. Ginny was across from me and smirked much as Fred had done earlier. My first instinct was to pull a face, or at least roll my eyes, but instead, and to my credit I think, I merely offered a half-smile and a shrug. No matter the reaction from Ginny, Fred, or anyone else, I was determined to understand what it was between us, and I had to make the best of it.

Bill and Fleur came in last. Fleur immediately took the end seat on the other side of Luna, but Bill stopped, standing just behind her, staring at the only remaining chair, the one at the end, Dad's chair. When everyone realized why he hadn't yet sat, the table flooded with silence and we all turned our gazes inward, waiting for someone else to make the next move.

This was our first big family dinner since the end of the war. Sure, we'd had family meals, but nothing as formal as this (though this was still rather casual, seeing as how we _are _Weasleys), and at least one of us had missed each of those earlier dinners. Somehow having everyone together in this one room made the absence of those we'd lost feel more apparent, like there was something missing that you couldn't quite put your finger on. Except that you really could put your finger on it, you just didn't _want_ to, because when you did you knew you'd have that feeling at every family dinner for the rest of your life. This was Christmas, a happy occasion, and a sort of victory feast for not just our family but the whole wizarding community; Bill's hesitation brought our awareness back to the bitter sweetness of the day and the fact that our family was no longer whole, that _we_ were no longer whole.

After a moment Bill did make a move, though it was not quite what any of us expected. He stepped around and put his hands on the back of Dad's rickety old chair, then spoke very softly. "I know I'm the head of the Weasley family now—'cept Mum, of course," he added quickly, smiling to her at the opposite end of the table. "And this is my place, I suppose. But I don't think I should sit here today."

He straightened and turned slightly to face Harry. "Harry, I know you're not much of one for recognition, and I know that you only ever did what you had to do. But the fact remains that everything about this Christmas is only happening because of you. We're only here, together, because of what you've done for us all, and I think this seat should belong to you today." He looked up at the rest of us then, as if suddenly remembering we were there too, or realising that we might disagree. "That is, if everyone else is okay with that."

Of course we were okay with it. How could we not be? Bill was absolutely right—had it not been for Harry, maybe none of us would be here anymore.

Harry, not surprisingly, flushed and looked to Ginny. She gave him a tight smile and rubbed his back in encouragement. He looked around the table at each of us and we all gave him the same tight smile, or perhaps a nod. He'd been so reluctant to hear even a word of thanks from anyone, least of all us, it was almost as if every one of us knew at that moment that the only way to thank him was to join forces and make him take the bloody chair. He ended with looking at Mum, who was once again blinking furiously and doing her best not to cry.

"It's all right, Harry dear. Bill's right," she choked out.

Harry looked back to Bill, who pulled the chair out from the table and nodded at him. When he stood and accepted the seat we felt a collective sigh and everything seemed to click back into place.

Bill took the seat Harry had vacated, then leaned forward and stabbed a finger in Harry's direction. "This doesn't mean you get to be head of the Weasley family, you know, so don't go getting any ideas."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it! Voldemort I can handle, but Weasleys…" Harry shuddered dramatically, then added with a nod to Ginny, "Just the one is plenty, thanks."

"That was a joke, wasn't it?" Luna had asked it of everyone, but it was me she looked to for an answer, bringing me back to my momentarily forgotten purpose. I hardly thought anyone else would have tried to put her on right then, but I fully registered the thought that she trusted me to tell her the truth.

And I would have told her the exact truth of it, too, except Hermione beat me to it. "Only partially, Luna. These Weasleys really are quite a handful."

From my vantage point at her side I could see Luna inspect her hands before dropping them back into her lap. "Too bad my hands are so small then."

I heard Fred's snigger from the end of the table, followed by a thwack from either Mum or Angelina—it was impossible to know which—and for a moment I couldn't tell whether Luna had meant it to be funny or not. No one else could either, apparently (Fred always was an inadequate judge of humour as related to Luna). There was a brief moment of silent questioning, in which no one quite knew what to say.

And then…clarity.

Friend though she may be, she was still a bit of an outsider to this particular family, and I had become the one best suited to guiding her safely through its inner workings. What's more, I realised that not only was I best suited—I wanted to.

"Luna," I started, turning slightly so she could see the seriousness I hoped was lying just under the casual expression on my face, "if you ever need to handle a Weasley, you just let me know."

This time it was Ron who sniggered, then Harry, then Ginny, then Fred (who was probably leery of getting thwacked again should he snigger first). But I didn't care, because I had won myself another of Luna's wide, bright smiles and a "Thank you, George. I will."

Looking back I can pinpoint that as the moment I started to recognise what it was between us, the moment I started to accelerate towards what would become our ultimate resolution, without consciously realising it. At the time I only saw it as sort of a middle phase, I guess, where I was still trying to hash out my own thoughts and feelings. But I had acknowledged that there might be more there than I was seeing and taken a large step towards determining what that was.

The rest of the meal was considerably lighter, with most of the conversation centering on the upcoming nuptials of both Harry and Ginny and now Fred and Angelina as well. Fred surprisingly kept his mouth shut about how soon he planned to wed, leaving Mum and each of the other women at the table free to fantasize about everything from the flowers that would be blooming to the shoes they would wear.

"I think I'll have to get married in the summer," Luna said thoughtfully. "Otherwise my feet would get cold."

"Not necessarily, Luna," Hermione started. "Ron and I got married in November and my feet weren't cold. You just have to wear proper shoes for whichever season." Hermione really does try to understand Luna, and I commend her for that. But she always tries too hard and ends up missing the point entirely.

"But I won't be wearing shoes."

"Why not?" It works out to my benefit though, because it's thoroughly amusing to see Hermione looking puzzled.

"Well, if you've got shoes on there's less of a physical connection, isn't there?" Luna replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Luckily for Hermione's spinning intellect, Fleur leaned slightly towards Luna and said, "Take eet from me, ween you are geetting married to a Weasley man, you weel not be theenking about your feet." She winked at Bill and then smiled at Hermione, who simply nodded in response.

"Well, if Luna wants a Weasley man she'll have to take George. He's the only one left available," Ron said, oblivious as always. Instead of everyone turning to Luna like they could have, they all thankfully gaped at Ron. I suppose that after my comment about helping her handle a Weasley it was obvious to everyone else what the situation was between us.

"Oh, that's fine. He's the only Weasley man I fancy anyway," she said simply.

When everyone turned their heads, it still wasn't to Luna, but to me, though instead of gaping disbelief the looks I received were knowing smiles, as well as gloating smirks from Fred and Ginny. I imagine my face went the approximate color of Ron's new Christmas jumper, and for a moment all air left my body; I was utterly frozen.

Sometimes I wonder if she realizes the impact her words have on those around her, if she passes them off as nothing because she believes the words don't make a difference when she's only describing the way things are, or if she knows exactly how important the thing is that she's proclaiming and makes her casual proclamation with the specific intent of watching us react. Her way with words holds a magic all its own, and when you understand it's like playing a game with her that only the two of you are aware of.

But when you don't understand, it's utterly confounding.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I managed to turn my own head and found her smiling softly not at me but at the table itself. When she did look up at me, she only said, "Could you pass me some more mince pie, please?" I stared dumbly at her until Hermione elbowed me in the ribs, passing the requested dish. "This is very good, Mrs. Weasley. My father wasn't much of a cook, and I'm afraid I've never been good at mince pie, but this is truly excellent," Luna said as she scooped another serving onto her plate.

"Oh, why thank you, dear," Mum replied, beaming at her. That seemed to be the cue for everyone else to compliment Mum on her cooking and, thankfully, the attention shifted away from me.

Dinner ended not long after that, with neither Luna nor myself saying another word. Hermione and Ginny volunteered to clear the table while Mum herded the rest of us into the living room.

Remus stepped past me, and as he did he put his hand on my shoulder and said softly, "Not exactly an 'off-chance' now, is it?"

"Her or me?"

My first clue that I had spoken out loud was his slight recoil of surprise, followed by the first real smile I'd seen from him in quite a while. "Both, apparently."

Damn him and his professorial wisdom.

I responded with a small smile of my own and the bowing of my head. He continued into the living room, but I stopped in the doorway, part of the crowd but still alone in my thoughts.

For the first time I allowed myself to openly consider the possibility of a relationship with Luna, of any new relationship at all really, though even then I had to admit that there was no one else I _would_ have considered a relationship with. I watched her sitting there, surrounded by my family, looking just as comfortable and relaxed as ever, and I couldn't help but smile. Only Luna could be comfortable and relaxed in the midst of the entire Weasley clan, a situation that would leave most newcomers cowering.

But that was just it, wasn't it? Luna was always comfortable, and I was always comfortable when I was with her. Something about her, or perhaps everything about her, had a very soothing effect on me.

Except where it concerned my family, and on that point I was stuck.

Why should my family hold me back? And they weren't, really, they were all encouraging and more than. No, I held myself back on their account.

Why would I do such a thing?

Because they reminded me, of what I had once had but no longer did. They reminded me that to everything there is an end, a loss, a taking away. A hole where there should have been none. Too many pieces of my life had been ripped apart, and I was so afraid it would happen again. So afraid. I couldn't stop it from happening with my family, but I couldn't let it happen with Luna, I wouldn't. I couldn't stand it if she was taken from me, couldn't stand it if she was gone. Without her, now, I would flounder.

But she would be gone one day, wouldn't she? No matter what I did or didn't do, one day she would be gone and all my trying, all my worrying and frustration and attempts to hold everything together would be for naught and I would flounder anyway. Wouldn't it be better just to avoid that altogether and get the floundering out of the way now rather than prolonging it all and making it worse?

I stood there in the doorway, turning it over and over in my head, and the more I thought the more undecided I became. I completely missed the conversation going on in the living room, so I have no idea what caused her to look up at me like she did, but when I saw her piercing gaze paired with that faint smile, like she knew something about me or my thoughts that even I didn't know, my anxiety came to a head and made everything spin.

I had to get out of that house.

I opened my mouth as if to speak, but when no words came to me I simply turned and walked to the door. I grabbed my cloak and glanced back towards the living room to find Luna standing in the doorway I had just abandoned, and Fred right behind her. "Leaving so soon, George?" he asked, though the soft tone of his voice and the expression on his face told me he knew it was more than that.

Seeing the two of them there, framed together as they were, the one I'd just lost and the one I couldn't bear to lose, tilted the balance of my fear and sent me plunging into desperation. I lashed out—at him, at her, at the whole situation—and spat, "What have I got to stay for?"

I saw the wave of hurt as it hit Luna's face, and everything else fell away. I couldn't respond to that. There _was_ no response to that. Cloak still in hand, I left without another word.

I'd intended to storm about, away from the Burrow altogether, but Fred's words and my own bitter reply had turned me sad and lonely rather than the angry I wanted to be. He'd been trying to stop me, make me stay, but had only succeeded in reminding me that he was gone and ultimately lost to me. So instead of stomping off I made my way to the garden wall, wrapped my cloak around me, and sat down on the cold stone, hunched over and fully prepared to wallow.

I didn't hear the door from all the way across the yard, but I felt her presence as she drew near. She stopped a few feet in front of me and just stood there. I didn't look up.

"They're all gone, Luna. They've all left me. Even Fred's left me, and he—"

She cut me off, sharply, saying, "I haven't left you, George." It was the sharpest I've ever heard her speak, and her words stabbed straight through the problem.

"But you will, won't you? And then you'll be gone, and I'll be alone again."

"I suppose I'll be gone one day, but I won't leave you. I won't leave you."

I did look up at her then, and the openness and honesty I had first noticed about her in the Leaky Cauldron were still her most prominent features. "Luna, I don't… I can't… I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to," she said. I stared at her for a moment, then reached out and grabbed her hand and pulled her to me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed my face to her stomach. She twined her fingers in my hair, held me there with her soft grip.

And that was it. So many things changed for me right then: my grief over those lost eased just a bit, and my anxiety about being so separate from Fred faded almost to nothing, and I was washed in the scent of her, clean and new and sweet.

I could sense her skin barely away from my own through her jumper, and I felt the frame of her under my arms. The dichotomy that was Luna struck me; for all that she appeared wispy—her hair, her voice, her eyes—she was sturdy and firm and strong. Everyone always saw her as flitting about, light as air, when in truth she was the ground, solid and unmoving, and I needed that more than anything.

I needed _her_ more than anything.

I clung to her for I don't know how long. She didn't complain, didn't move away or try to prod me in any direction. I think she knew I needed that moment to accept the change in my mind and in my heart. Like she knew that I was coming to my senses, coming to her.

Finally she shivered, and for the first time I realised she hadn't even put on her cloak before chasing after me. I pulled away and jumped to my feet, ripping my own cloak from my shoulders to place it around hers. "Luna, you're freezing! You need to go back inside where it's warm," I said, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm her.

Through chattering teeth she replied, "Are you ready?"

Somehow she managed to convey so much with those few words; it was more than the simple question it seemed. I looked at the house in another instant of doubt, but when I returned my gaze to her my indecision was once again washed away, and I smiled. "One thing…"

She didn't answer, but waited patiently for me to continue.

"Fred didn't mention it, but I know he wants to get married within the month. Go to the wedding with me?"

"I don't know if I'll be invited. Neither Fred nor Angelina knows me very well, they'd have no reason to invite me," she said, a thoughtful look on her face.

"No, Luna," I laughed, "_I'm_ inviting you. I want you to be my date."

"Oh. Well, all right then."

After spending so much time with her over the past few months, I was well aware of how she looked when she was surprised, having managed to cause that particular expression myself a small number of times. I can safely say that when I asked her to be my date for my brother's wedding, Luna Lovegood was most definitely _not_ surprised.


	5. On My Behalf

We stopped just outside the door, or rather, I stopped us. Without looking over at her, I began, "Luna, I…" but couldn't find any more words. How to say all that I was thinking, all that I was feeling? I reached down and grabbed her tiny hand, wrapping it in mine, and settled for, "Thank you."

"George," she said, tilting her head and looking up at me, curiosity etched across her pale skin, "does this mean you're my boyfriend now?"

My thought process hadn't quite made it that far yet, as I was still reeling at the sensation of her hand against my own. "Oh… well…"

"I've never had a boyfriend before. I think I might like it, if it were you."

I took a deep breath and said, "In that case, yes, that's exactly what this means."

How strange it seemed, to recognize that only minutes before I had been storming away, from the Burrow, from my family, and especially from Luna, and now here I was going in exactly the opposite direction, and glad of it.

She squeezed my hand in return, and surprised me with, "Thank you too, George." I wasn't exactly sure what she was referring to. It could have been for accepting a romantic relationship with her, finally, after months of being blind to her and all that she was to me. It could have been for straightening myself up and acting like the George she knew for once that day. It could have been for helping to ease her grief as she had mine. It could have even been for simply being her friend, for listening to her and being honest with her and not treating her like a joke. Sometimes with Luna it's hard to tell, and it's quite possible she was thanking me for none of those things, or maybe all of them, as I hoped. Whatever it was, she was certainly welcome to it. And more. From now on, she was welcome to all she wanted from me.

Without letting go of her hand, I opened the door and led her inside. Fred was still standing where he had been, though now Angelina had joined him in the doorway and they were chatting softly. He watched as I took Luna's cloak—my cloak—and hung it beside the door. He caught my gaze, and when he did I immediately reclaimed Luna's hand in a bit of defiance, or acquiescence, or something. I think I needed her stability at that moment, the reassurance that she was there with me and for me, when I was about to face my largest perceived obstacle in Fred. His eyes followed my movement, and he smiled.

"Would you look at that?" he said quietly to Angelina, nodding his head in our direction.

She turned to look at us fully, and then said to me, "Well, it's about time. For a while there, George, I thought you were going to be as much of a prat about Luna as Ron was about Hermione."

At her echo of his earlier words, Fred marveled at his new fiancée. "God, I love this woman! Could she _be_ any more perfect?" Then he grabbed her face, pulled her to him, and kissed her soundly.

Luna leaned slightly towards me, though I think she was most likely just trying to get a better view of the living room, where it sounded like Ron and Hermione were once again having a bit of a spat, and said, "Ron really was a prat, wasn't he?"

"He's practically a legend for it, setting a new standard for all prats to strive for," I answered, thankful that I had fallen short of that mark.

"I'm glad you're not a prat, George. I don't think I would have liked waiting another six years for you."

For a split second I was taken aback, at both her knowledge of Ron and Hermione's past and at her expectations of our future.

But then, that was just Luna, wasn't it?

"No, I don't think I'd have liked it much either," I said, a smile finding its way onto my face.

And then Angelina was reaching out towards Luna, saying, "Come. Sit. Talk. We're in this together now, aren't we, so we might as well get to know each other a bit." She practically dragged Luna over to the table, and while I regretted the loss of her physical contact, my hand still warm where her cool skin had touched, I was thankful of Angelina's welcoming response. It suddenly seemed very important that Luna be accepted into the family, though if I had thought about it then I would have realised that, of course, she already had been.

His woman having deserted him, Fred sidled over to me, a smirk already plastered in place. "Go on, tell me again how she's 'just a friend.'"

"Sod off, Fred," I told him, but my voice was quiet and lacked all trace of harshness. "I'm trying, all right?"

His smirk softened into a sort of half-smile, and he nodded. "Yeah, all right."

The thing is, Fred and I never apologise to each other, or at least we never say the words _I'm sorry_. It's practically a rule between us: Never apologise, even when you mean it. Most of the time it's not necessary anyway. We know what each other's intentions are, and we are both well aware that neither would intentionally set out to hurt or insult the other, so any unexpected consequences are simply disregarded.

And really, we knew there hadn't been any ill intentions in this case either, but somehow this was more personal than a randomly tossed dig, more painful than a surprise explosion. I could not keep the apology from my voice or face, and I knew it was reflected in his. The wall was still there between us; we were separate now and we were separating ourselves ever more, and though it felt an almost physical ripping, we knew it had to be done. Our lives were our own, two individual, and we pushed further apart even as we regretted the distance.

In the loaded silence that followed we could hear Luna and Angelina's conversation, which had now turned to similarities and differences between Fred and myself.

"You know," Angelina was saying, "it's obvious to me now how different they are, but I used to think it could have been either of them, and Fred just happened to ask me out first."

"Really?" Luna asked, and Angelina nodded in response. Then Luna shook her head and said, "I don't think I'd get on with Fred quite so well. He's friendly and all, but it's always been George for me."

Though I was certainly getting used to this type of candid statement from her, somehow those words managed to give me pause, and once again that day I felt a flush rise in my cheeks. And apparently I took on the same expression Fred had had that morning when I asked if he loved Angelina, because he suddenly turned gruff and jabbed me in the shoulder. "Hey now, you're looking right sheepish, and I don't like it one bit, so knock it off!"

Playing off his suddenly lightened mood, I responded with what I hoped was an even more sheepish grin and a duck of my head, saying, "Well, you told me I'd know what it's like soon enough. Just neither one of us thought it'd be today."

"Bloody hell, man, enough!" He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face the living room, then shoved me through the doorway and directed me into a seat beside Mum. He sat down on the other side of her, and we both wrapped an arm around her shoulders and grinned. She accused us of being up to something but glowed nonetheless.

After a while Luna and Angelina came into the room as well, and Angie leaned over the back of the sofa and slid her arms around Fred's neck. "I thought we might pop over and tell my parents the news, what do you think?"

"Well, I suppose I should try to make a good impression," he answered, rising from his seat.

Every set of eyes in the room turned to him in shock. Ginny said, "Since when have you cared about making a good impression?"

He just grinned wickedly. "It'll make them feel better about the fact that I'm ravishing their daughter as soon as we leave."

"Fred Weasley!" Mum screeched, jumping out of her seat as well, one fist already on her hip. "You had better say no such thing, not if you ever want the respect of her family! I'll not have them thinking my son is a lecherous goat!"

Mum kept going on about how he should be polite and proper (as if it did any good to tell Fred), but he just swooped in and kissed her on the cheek, then grabbed Angelina around the waist and headed for the door, pausing only momentarily to retrieve their cloaks.

Apparently that was the cue for everyone else to make their exit as well. There was a flurry of hugs, well-wishes, and goodbyes, and soon the only ones left were Ginny, who headed up to her room, Mum, Remus, Luna, and me.

"I suppose I should be heading home as well," Luna said, though it was obvious, to me at least, that she was somewhat disappointed at the prospect.

"Would you like to take some mince pie with you, Luna? We've got plenty leftover, and you're welcome to it," Mum offered. She really does make the best mince pie. Well, Mum makes the best everything.

"Oh, that would be lovely! I don't cook very often these days, since it's only me at home now, and having something as well-made as your pie would be quite a treat."

Mum muttered her thanks and bustled to prepare a rather large basket of various foods for Luna, more than she usually sent home with us, and that's saying something. When she finished, I took the basket from her, hugging her with my free arm. "I'll take care of it. Thanks, Mum. Happy Christmas."

I think she was about to protest, to remind me that the food was for Luna and not for me, but then she looked over to see Luna waiting patiently, her cloak already wrapped about her. Mum smiled at me and patted me on the cheek. "Yes, George, happy Christmas."

"Remus," I said, nodding and giving him a small smile, which he returned in kind. I donned my own cloak while Luna said her thanks and goodbyes, then we headed out the door together.

I wasn't exactly sure where we were going. I knew Luna lived somewhere nearby, but having never been there I could not judge the distance or direction. We walked in silence for a moment, and then thick, heavy snowflakes began to fall. I offered, "If you tell me where we're going, we can Apparate. I think you've been cold on my behalf plenty for one day."

"It's really not far, and I'd prefer to walk, if that's all right."

"Of course."

"You don't have walk with me if you don't want to, though I am glad of your company."

"No, Luna, I want to walk with you. I like walking with you." All of this felt like so much prattle to me, like there had to be something more significant said between us. But far be it from me to know what that was.

Feeling the sudden need for some sort of contact, I reached over and took her hand and said, "I just like being with you, no matter what we're doing." I gave her a soft smile, and it occurred to me that I was smiling more today than I had in a good while, which broadened my smile even more.

"Me too, George." She smiled back at me, and if I didn't know any better, I'd swear I saw her blush.

We continued on, hand in hand, for perhaps a mile, until we saw what I assumed was her house not too far ahead of us. Before we reached the gate though, she pulled me off to the side of the road and led me into a small grove of trees. Precisely in the middle of the grove stood two smallish stones side by side. Luna walked directly to them, dropping my hand once we were a few feet away and reaching into her cloak. She pulled out a single flower, a snow white orchid, and laid it directly between the gravestones. Then she stepped back to my side, returned her hand to mine, and said, "This is George, the one I told you about. We're going take care of each other now."

Eventually you learn to take these things that she says in stride, almost to expect them (though I would never go so far as to say Luna is predictable on any account), and I'd like to think that by that time I was getting somewhat better at understanding her and her motivations. But there was just something about that moment, about what she was saying and to whom, about where we were standing and under what circumstances, about the calm and unquestioning manner in which she spoke, that shook my only recently attained serenity and left me a bit in awe of her.

But she simply nodded, and then without another word turned and guided me back to the road.

As we approached the house, I saw that it was considerably larger than I would have expected. Though I don't really know what I expected, seeing as it was the Lovegoods. She flicked her wand at the door, which opened before us, and headed straight into the house without even pausing.

I, on the other hand, hesitated on the stoop. She turned to look at me and said, "I don't think Fred will want you home just yet, so I'll make us some tea. I think you've been cold on my behalf plenty for one day."

Chuckling slightly, I nodded and followed her into the kitchen. After all, she was most likely right about Fred, and I'd rather not investigate. I sat the food Mum had sent on the counter while Luna made tea. When she finished, she handed me a steaming cup, took one for herself, and went into the living room, and I trailed behind her.

She immediately sat on the sofa and tucked her feet under her, but again I hesitated. The awkwardness I had known months ago in the Leaky Cauldron was back in full force; this was new territory for us. We'd always been in public view, or in the presence of others, and this venture into her personal space, even in light of our newly admitted attraction—or perhaps because of it—had me feeling unexpectedly nervous.

In an effort to hide my trepidation I took a look at the room around me. Though there was a good deal of random stuff—books and photographs and framed pages from _The_ _Quibbler_ covered almost every available surface; a desk in the corner was home to a wireless, a few stacks of parchment, assorted quills, and more issues of _The Quibbler_; a set of what looked to be jade gobstones and a small stack of books lay on the coffee table—everything was neat and clean, and the haphazard array made the room seem comfortable and inviting. Almost, I thought with a small jolt, _homey_.

I wandered around the room, unsure of what to say or do, until my eye was caught by a picture on the mantle. I saw a younger version of Luna looking at me curiously and a seemingly older version of her giving me a knowing smile from within the same frame.

"You remind me of her a bit."

I jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. My eyes darted between Luna and the picture, and it took me a moment to realise what she meant. "Your mother." It wasn't really a question.

She nodded and took a sip of her tea. The woman in the picture beamed down at the girl beside her and smoothed her hair. "She was very curious, and she wanted to know about everything. She wasn't quite as flamboyant about it as my father was though, but I guess that makes sense, as you're not quite as flamboyant about it as Fred is, are you?"

Somehow that logic did make sense to me. Fred was the big thinker between us, the marketer and the creator of concepts, while I was more detail-oriented. Fred had ideas and I made them work. Sure, we both did some of each, but by and large that was how it went. And it made sense in relation to what little I knew of Luna's parents as well. Fred would be running the newspaper, and I'd be finding things for him to write about.

I turned and watched her for a moment, curled in the corner of the sofa, drinking her tea and looking perhaps more herself than ever before, and I thought about how easy we were to see, Fred and I. We were always putting ourselves out there for people to look at and watch, so blatant in everything we did, and though we appeared so similar on many fronts, anyone who put forth the smallest bit of effort to that effect could tell us apart. The conversation Luna and Angelina had earlier that day illustrated that point.

Then there was Luna, who never did anything to intentionally catch the public eye but somehow always found herself the center of someone's attention nonetheless, and usually not in a positive light. No matter how much they looked at her or made fun of her, no one ever really saw her as she was, not like this. To them she was Loony. No one ever really bothered to look for Luna.

But there she was, sitting right in front of me. The same Luna I'd been seeing so much of over the past months, and now completely different.

This was going to take some getting used to.


	6. Only Breakfast

I woke up with a jolt the next morning to find myself staring directly into Luna's eyes, scant inches away from my own. I almost involuntarily pulled away from her, but forced myself to stay still. My eyes darted about as I tried to recollect the events of the previous evening, but I could only bring myself to focus on Luna. Her head was tilted sideways to match the angle of my own, and she smiled.

"Do you always look like that when you sleep?"

I paused, then responded with the only thing that came to mind. "I don't know. I've never watched myself sleep before."

Her smile faded for the shortest of instants before brightening once again. "You look peaceful. Even now that you're awake, though less so."

"Well, I suppose most people look peaceful when they're asleep."

But she shook her head. "No, I don't think so. You haven't looked so peaceful in months, and I've been watching." I smiled and was about to respond when Luna pushed herself back and sat on the coffee table. "If it's that comfortable, perhaps I should start sleeping on the sofa."

I pushed myself upright and my hand immediately went to my neck, which, now that the pressure was removed, felt stiff and achy. "No, I don't think the sofa had anything to do with it."

"Oh well. I made us some breakfast. Would you like coffee or tea?" she asked, standing up and starting towards the kitchen.

I stood up as well and followed her, still caught in my morning daze. "Coffee, if you've got it. If not, tea's fine. What time is it?"

She got two cups out of a cupboard and poured us each some coffee, saying, "Half eight." When she finished pouring, she sat the pot down and looked at me quizzically. "Do you take cream or sugar in your coffee? I know you don't in tea, but I've never seen you drink coffee."

For some reason I felt like explaining myself, like it was important to let her know my preferences and motivations. "Cream, and I only drink it in the morning. Wakes me up better than tea."

She nodded and added a small amount of cream to both of the cups, and I couldn't help but wonder if she purposefully fixed her coffee the same as mine, or if we just happened to take it the same way.

A small niggling voice in my head told me I should feel awkward at the very least at having slept at her house, even if it was on the sofa, so early in our relationship, but I resolutely ignored it. I had been relaxed here the night before, enough even to fall asleep, and I wasn't about to let myself slip back into the quagmire of uncertainty. I took the cup she offered me and held it up to my face, inhaling its sharp aroma.

She leaned back against the counter and did the same. Sunlight was pouring in through the window behind her and when she moved the light caught in her hair, framing her in a silver glow. How anyone could look so radiant at half eight was beyond me.

I felt a flush start to rise in my cheeks at the thought. But why should I flush at that? After all, she was my girlfriend now, and this was exactly the way I needed and wanted to be seeing her. Shouldn't I be allowed—no, encouraged—to think of her as radiant? I did my best to tamp the flush down and smiled at her over the rim of my cup.

Either she didn't notice me redden, or she decided to let it pass without remark. "You must've been very tired yesterday. You fell asleep while I was telling you about the last Snorkack-hunting trip I took with my father. You did look peaceful though, so I didn't want to wake you."

My gaze fell to the floor, and the flush returned despite my best efforts. "Sorry 'bout that. I suppose I was rather knackered."

"Well, it wasn't a very exciting story. We didn't find any," she shrugged. "There's eggs. I didn't know if you preferred bacon or sausages, so I made both." She gestured to the counter behind me, and I finally looked around to see the breakfast she had prepared.

My eyes went wide as I took in the array of food. There were eggs and bacon and sausages as she had said, but there was also fruit, yoghurt, tomatoes, beans, kippers, bread and toast with butter and marmalades, and an assortment of cereals. There was more food there than Mum usually prepared for the whole family's breakfast.

"Luna," I said, somewhat amazed, "you made all this for me?" She nodded. "You do realise that I can't possibly eat all of this?"

Again she shrugged, and said, "I didn't know what you usually eat for breakfast, and I didn't want to give you something you don't like, so I thought I'd be prepared. I'll watch what you choose this time, and next time I'll know for certain what to fix."

Next time? I raised one eyebrow and studied her for a moment. Had she said that intentionally or was it just a slip of the tongue? With anyone else I would have made some instantaneous tongue-in-cheek reply, joked and questioned and called them on their perhaps unintentional innuendo. But this was Luna, and I couldn't just blurt out whatever popped into my head.

Then again, this was _Luna_, and I had no intention of always _not_ saying whatever popped into my head. She'd have to get used to it sooner or later. And she was already used to it in some contexts, so this was merely an extension, a new facet of conversation added along with the new facet of our relationship.

So I gave my tongue-in-cheek reply. "Next time? You planning on me falling asleep on your sofa often, then?"

She didn't blink, didn't waver, didn't hesitate. "It's not a plan, George. Only breakfast." But I caught one corner of her mouth turn up in a smile, and I understood her clearly in that moment: she knew exactly what she was saying, and every word was completely intentional. She was playing the same game I was, and what's more, _she_ had started it.

_Brilliant_.

I didn't get the chance to respond though, because she turned, picked up a plate from the counter beside her, and held it out to me. "I expect you'll be needed at your shop soon, and you'll likely be busy today, so you should eat."

She did have a point. The day after Christmas is a rather busy day for us, with all the youngsters looking to spend their Christmas Sickles, and there was a fairly decent chance that I would not have an opportunity to lunch. I took the plate from her, nodding, and started to dish myself some food. Luna watched closely as I scooped some eggs, sausages, and toast onto my plate.

Then something occurred to me: there wasn't another plate on the counter, and Luna was making no move to find one. "Aren't you eating with me?" I asked.

"I've already eaten."

My normal impish nature having already forced its way to the surface, I turned back to her, smiling, and asked, "Then how will I know what you like to have for breakfast?"

"You could always ask me," she suggested, inclining her chin just enough to indicate—at least as far as I was concerned—that the game was back on.

"And you could have asked me," I countered.

"But then you would have been late for work."

_Check. _She had me there. New tactic. "Ok, so what do you like to have for breakfast?"

Once again she shrugged. "It depends."

"On what?"

"What I feel like having, I suppose."

She was being purposefully evasive, but I wasn't about to let her get away with it. "That's everyone. What did you have today?"

"A mash sandwich and some figs," she said plainly.

"A mash sandwich and some figs?"

"Yes." She nodded, smiling, then added, "Well, I had the mash sandwich for breakfast, but then the figs smelled delicious when I got them out, so I had some of those as well."

"And what, pray tell, is a mash sandwich?"

"Mash on toast with butter and cheese. My mother used to make them for me any time we had leftover mash, and your mum's mash was very tasty, and since she was so kind and sent some home with me, I thought it would be an appropriate breakfast, and it was."

_Check. _I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to ask her for a mash sandwich of my own, but felt it would seem ungrateful in the face of all she had already made for me. "So what if I'm out of mash and figs, then what do I fix for you?"

"You don't need to fix anything for me, George. I like to cook."

"But if you're at my flat, you won't know where anything is, so I'll have to do it."

"Why would I be at your flat?"

"Perhaps one day you'll fall asleep on my sofa."

For the briefest of moments she hesitated, then said, "You'd better eat, or you'll be late for work whether I've asked you or not."

Score one for George. "All right then, I won't fix anything and you'll be stuck fighting Fred for some cold cereal."

"Will Fred fall asleep on your sofa as well?" she asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth once again.

"No, he's got . . ." _Check_ and damnI was going to finish the sentence with _his own room_, but then I remembered: he wouldn't have a room at my flat, and I'd no longer have a room at his.

But there was Luna, still dazzling in the morning light, and there was breakfast, and there was joking, and there was comfort. And there was _no Fred_. Maybe having a flat of my own wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"No," I said firmly, and smiled. "He won't be there, and you can have all the cold cereal you like."

"Good."

_Check. _She almost sounded smug. I narrowed my eyes at her, but then she grinned and said, "I like cold cereal."

_Checkmate._

"Well, well, well, look what the cat brought in," Fred said when I walked into the shop about half an hour later. After breakfast at Luna's, I'd popped into the flat for a shower and a change of clothes to find it thankfully empty. When I made it down to work, there were already loads of people there, just as I'd suspected. Fred was helping customers on the floor, and Verity looked like she wouldn't be getting a break from the register any time soon. "Had a good night, did you?"

I was in such a good mood I decided to have a bit of fun with him. "Yes, I'd say I did. And a good morning, too." Let him think what he wanted.

"Hey now, there's children about," he said, pointing to the children standing just beside him. "We'll have none of that talk here. Let's go to the office."

"I heard that, Weasley!" Verity shouted from the counter. "And you're not leaving me out here by myself! This is _your_ shop, not mine!"

"Right then, there you go. You'll have to wait," I said, grinning at him as wide as I could.

"Oh no, you're running the register, I'm manning the counter, and you're telling me what's going on. Verity can handle the floor." Fred grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the counter, where he also grabbed Verity's arm, then pulled us into opposite positions. She started to protest, but he shushed her, made a shooing motion, and winked, then plopped an elbow on the counter beside me. "There, see? Now spill. What happened?"

"Nothing happened, Fred."

Between Fred and me, there was nothing more annoying than having something hidden. We'd always shared thoughts, ideas, and happenings, always known everything about the other, and I knew full well that simply saying "nothing," even though that's really what had happened, would drive him mad.

I smiled at the customers, a small boy of about 10 and an older lady, most likely his mother. "That'll be five Galleons, seven Sickles, please."

And my tactic was working. He looked about ready to pop out of his skin with anticipation. "_Please?_ You're _please_-ing the customers and nothing happened?"

"I _please_ customers all the time. You're the rude one! Thank you, please come again!" I said cheerfully, handing the boy his change and earning a stern look from his mother. "See?"

Fred gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes and said, "So if nothing happened, what _did_ happen?"

"Nothing."

He slumped and gave me an angry look. "Define 'nothing.'"

I shrugged. "Nothing. She made tea, we talked, I fell asleep. That's it. Nothing."

"That's it?" he asked with a mixture of disappointment and disgust.

"That's it. Two Galleons, _please,_" I said, throwing Fred a glance at the last word.

"Well, I guess it could have been worse," he said, resigned, standing up straight and placing the customer's items into a small bag. "At least you didn't have to face her parents."

"Actually, I did," I said slowly, watching for his reaction. And I was not disappointed.

He nearly dropped the package he was holding. "You've got to be kidding."

I snatched the bag out of his hands and gave it to the customer. "She stopped by their graves. Wanted to wish them a happy Christmas, I guess." There was no way I was going to tell him what she had actually said.

But my words had their intended effect, and he only nodded. I rang up the next few customers without another word from him.

Eventually there was a small break in the queue, and I said to him, "Look, Fred, I've been thinking."

He eyed me suspiciously. "About what?"

"About the flat."

"Oh. Right. The flat," he said slowly. "Still moving out?"

"Yeah. Can the two of you handle the shop one afternoon this week so I can go looking?"

"Erm . . . Ask Verity. It's up to her." Then he turned and went into the office, shutting the door behind him.

This wasn't the first time we'd traded positions like this. Most of the time we had very similar feelings and moods on almost everything, but there had always been moments, situations when one of us would be particularly up or down about something, and the other would be the opposite. And depending on what the cause was, and on what happened next, we seemed to trade off, acting as a foil rather than a reflection. Now that I was out of my melancholy and relatively happy, Fred was more aware of what had been disturbing me in the first place, and it was his turn to react.

I looked to Verity, who gave me a quick roll of her eyes, then pointed after Fred, saying, "Go."

I followed him into the office and found him sitting at his desk, forehead resting on one fist and a quill in the other, though he wasn't writing anything. I just stood there in silence for a moment, but then Fred spoke. "I knew it had to happen eventually, it's just . . ."

"I know. But it's better this way. It will be." He'd realize the good in this situation soon, just as I had. "After all, you don't want to listen to my nothing, and I certainly don't want to listen to your something."

He chuckled a bit at that, and I sat down in the chair next to my desk, leaning back and kicking my feet out in front of me.

He spun his chair around towards me, his face scrunched in disbelief. "Did you really do _nothing_?"

I crossed my hands over my chest and gave him a small shrug. "Yeah. We just . . . talked."

"All night?"

I winced and smiled at the same time. "Well, until I fell asleep in the middle of one of her stories."

At that his eyes lit up with the mischievous glint I'm used to, and he straightened in his chair. "Did you, now?"

"Apparently, yeah."

He laughed with obvious delight. "Oh, that's ruddy brilliant!"

"Laugh it up, it's very funny."

"Actually, it _is_. What was she talking about?"

"A trip she took with her father, I think. But it had nothing to do with that, her stories are plenty interesting."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ they are," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Hey! Don't put her down like that. You've got to be nice to her now."

"And why's that?"

"Because . . ." I started, then stopped, and swallowed hard.

More than anyone else in my family, I needed him to accept her. Mum would accept her, of course, even if she didn't quite have her figured out (not that Luna _can_ be figured out), and Percy would be his diplomatic and ever-courteous self, and Ron and Ginny were friends with her already, and no one else would really say much either way. But Fred was another story. Fred was so intertwined in my life, and I in his, that it mattered very much how he reacted to her.

Granted, from our various exchanges the day before it seemed that he had already accepted her as a part of my life; however, that was no guarantee of how he would treat her. When we had known her at Hogwarts it was primarily as a source of amusement, much the same as everyone else, and we had often had a joke at her expense. But now that I knew her as so much more, now that I understood her better, now that I saw what everyone else had been missing all that time—what _I_ had been missing all that time—the truth is that I felt more than a little guilty, especially now that we'd moved to a romantic relationship. I was determined to make it up to her, whether she saw it as a slight or not. And that meant I would do my utmost to keep others from slighting her as I had.

Besides, if Fred laughed at her now, he wasn't just laughing at her: he was laughing at _me_.

Finally I brought my eyes up to meet his and started again. "Because I need you to be. She's not a joke, and I won't have you treating her like one."

After a moment, he said, "I'm glad to hear you say that, George. Really, I am." I nodded and sighed in relief, and there was another pause in the conversation. Then, finally, Fred said, "So, what did you talk about?"

"Nothing. Everything. It doesn't matter. I just felt . . . comfortable with her, you know? I _feel_ comfortable with her. Like I don't have to be George Weasley, Jokester Extraordinaire and one-half Proprietor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; I can just be George." I looked up to see Fred giving me an odd sort of smile, and added, "Sounds stupid, I know."

"No," he replied quickly. "It doesn't sound stupid at all. It sounds like a very good thing."

"Yeah. I think it is." I smiled, remembering the events of the past twelve hours. "She made me breakfast, you know."

"Good cook?" He leaned back in his chair, matching my position.

"You have no idea," I laughed. "She made so much food, said she didn't know what I'd want, so she covered every option, like she was worried I wouldn't like it or something. It was cute."

"Good thing she didn't end up at our place instead of the other way around, or she would have been stuck with cold cereal."

"That's what I told her."

Then he narrowed his eyes, gave me a small smile, and dropped his voice a bit. "She doesn't want to give you any reason to slip away. Angelina says you're pretty much stuck with her now, at least if Luna has anything to say about it."

"Does she now?" He nodded. "Don't you have anything better to do than talk about me?"

"No, not really," he answered, grinning.

Apparently Verity had overheard at least that last bit of our conversation, as she called from just outside the door, "I beg to differ! You two'd better get out here!"

I joined Fred in grinning, and as one we both yelled back, "Be right there, love!"


	7. Showing Off

The next days passed all in a rush. Angelina had been more than accepting of Fred's idea to get married quickly, and the wedding was set a mere two weeks later; however, that did not stop her from wanting all the traditional accoutrements a wedding involved, and as Best Man, I was plunged into robe fittings, toast writing, and party planning. Throw the post-holiday rush at the shop, searching for a flat, and finally moving into my own place on top of that, and it all added up to me not getting to see Luna anywhere near as much as I would have liked. We managed to have lunch together only once during that time, though we did run into each other occasionally, just as we had for months.

The first time was only two days after Christmas, and I was on my way back from picking up lunch for Fred, Verity, and myself, the shop having been busy all morning with no sign of letting up, and she was on her way to the offices of _The Quibbler_, where she had an appointment with the new editor to discuss some of the mistakes that had recently been printed. We walked together for the portion we could, and I told her the pertinent information about Fred and Angelina's wedding. We said our goodbyes in front of the joke shop, but halfway through the door a thought struck me, and before she had a chance to walk away I stopped her.

"Hey, what did you have for breakfast this morning?" I asked.

She thought about it for only a second before answering, "Eggs and beans."

"Eggs and beans, got it. I'll add that to my list."

"Your list?"

"Yes, my list of Things Luna Likes to Have for Breakfast."

She tilted her head and gave me a curious look. "You're making a list of my breakfast habits?"

"I'm making lots of lists about you. You're not the only one who can be observant, you know."

"Should I be nervous about that?" she asked, but she was smiling.

"Only if you're afraid of your preferred breakfast foods." I winked at her and continued into the madness of the shop.

My asking what she'd had for breakfast became a sort of running joke with us, as each time I saw her I made a point of it, even if that was our only conversation. One time I saw her only in passing, and I had no time whatsoever to chat, so I merely raised my eyebrows and asked, "Breakfast?"

"Pancakes!" she almost yelled, a huge smile brightening her face.

"Pancakes?"

"With bananas!"

"Excellent!" I grinned, and was on my way.

In contrast to the morning after our first meeting in the Leaky Cauldron, I grew gradually calmer as the big day approached, even though now there was a considerably longer wait and more non-Luna-related stress in the interim. The brief moments I spent in her company were as bursts of sunlight, and the memory of those moments, and looking forward to the next, put a near-constant smile on my face.

But none of that compared to the anticipation of having her on my arm at the wedding, of dancing with her, of feeling her frame under my fingers once again, of breathing in the sweet smell of her, of simply having her so near me and in the presence of everyone I held dear. By the time the day actually arrived, I think I was nearly as excited as Fred.

On Mum's insistence, I Apparated to his flat early that morning, hangover recovery potion in hand (though that had nothing to do with Mum's insistence), to help him out. She expected him to be nervous, but I knew better; Fred doesn't get nervous, only anxious for the next adventure.

The wedding wasn't until early evening, so we spent most of the day just hanging out. We hadn't had much time for that recently, and knew we wouldn't in the near future, so even though neither one of us pointed it out, I think we were both glad to have a few hours to spend together. We'd closed the joke shop by posting a sign on the door that read, "There are very few days when there is anything more important than laughter. Unfortunately for you, today is one of those days, so bugger off and try again tomorrow!" We didn't do anything in particular, just talked about how sales had been, discussed a few new products to work on, played a couple of rounds of Exploding Snap; we were simply the same Fred and George we'd always been.

When the clock struck two, we decided we'd better get moving, and we proceeded in much the same fashion as we had for years: jostling for position in front of the mirror (eventually I conceded victory to him, of course, but just that once). Soon enough though we were ready, and Fred popped off to the wedding hall with nothing more than a nod and a grin, and I took a deep breath and headed to Luna's.

She opened the door just before I knocked, saying, "Oh good, you're punctual."

I was almost knocked off my feet by the sight of her; she wore pale blue robes that made her eyes and hair shine like silver, and when she moved she seemed to shimmer.

Somehow I managed to give a response, though I couldn't tell you what it was.

"I didn't know if you would be. Most people aren't with me."

Swallowing and blinking to clear my head, I said, "I'm sorry, most people aren't what?"

"Aren't punctual. Sometimes they don't show up at all, and I'm left waiting."

She'd said it very nonchalantly, as if such a slight was nothing to her, either because there had been so many slights in her life or because it really was nothing to her. But to me, there was a difference between playing a joke and intentionally being mean, and standing her up was downright cruel.

"Well, I'm not always the most punctual of people, but you have my word that I will never leave you waiting," I promised, and offered her my arm.

She smiled, but didn't take it. "You look very handsome today, George."

"And you look absolutely stunning in those robes."

Luna looked down at her robes and twirled her skirt slightly. "Do you like them? They were my mother's. Of course, I had to alter them a bit to get the fit just right, but I've always liked them, and I'm glad I finally have the chance to wear them. They were still too big the last time I got to wear anything like this."

"Luna, the robes are lovely, but _you_ are gorgeous." By this point I was simply so excited to see her, to actually have some time to spend with her after what had seemed like weeks of separation, that she could have been wearing an old t-shirt and some cutoff shorts and I would have still thought she looked gorgeous. And now that I had that image in my mind, I was quite sure she _would_ look gorgeous in that outfit, or in any number of other outfits that went scrolling through my head.

"Oh, that reminds me," she said, halting my wandering train of thought. "I only had a piece of toast for breakfast today."

My focus had been so far gone for a moment that I couldn't make the connection. "Me saying you're gorgeous reminds you of what you had for breakfast?"

"Yes, well, I wasn't very hungry. I was a little nervous."

Was? "But you're not anymore?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "I asked myself what I had to be nervous about, but I couldn't think of anything, so I stopped."

"Good." Because really, what _would_ she have to be nervous about?

"But when you said that, you made me nervous again."

"Why? You being gorgeous is a good thing."

"Oh, I know. I've stopped again."

"Okay then, are you ready?" I asked, offering my arm again. "Mum and Angelina would both kill me if I was late today."

"In that case, let's hurry. It would be rather inconvenient to have you killed twice on our first official date," she replied, taking my arm, and an instant later we were at the wedding hall.

"Luna, do you want to dance?"

She was watching the dancing couples so intently, she looked so serene, and a small smile played upon her lips. "No, I don't really like to dance. Though they are pretty to look at, aren't they?"

I'd been looking forward to dancing with her, to spinning her about the floor and holding her in my arms—as it is a little known fact that, no matter how much we may complain, Weasley men love to dance—and I was somewhat disappointed that she didn't want to. But I didn't have much time to reflect on it right then, as another voice piped up behind me.

"I'll dance with you, George." I turned to see Alicia Spinnet standing only a few feet away. She seemed to slide across the floor until she was almost against me. "As Maid of Honor and Best Man, I think we ought to dance together at least once this evening, and besides, it'll give us a chance to . . ." she made a very obvious survey of me, "catch up."

"Alicia," I said, turning slightly away from her, "you remember Luna, don't you?"

Luna smiled and said, "Angelina picked out lovely robes for you."

But Alicia didn't seem to take it as a compliment. She tipped her nose slightly into the air, smiling pointedly at me. "Yes, I remember. Shall we?"

I looked to Luna, but she merely took the drink from my hand. "I don't mind. I like to watch other people dancing."

Feeling helpless to do otherwise, I followed Alicia into the crowd. As soon as she stopped she drew herself rather close to me and put both of her hands on my shoulders.

"You're being very considerate, talking to Loony Lovegood like that, even asking her to dance," Alicia said, giving me what I recognized as her "coy smile," the same one that I had allowed to work a few years earlier (though even then I wasn't fooled).

"Well, I _am_ the one who brought her, so I figured I should at least speak to her."

"Oh, that's very charitable of you. I always knew you were the nicer twin."

"It has nothing to do with charity, Alicia. Luna's my girlfriend."

She pulled back slightly and blinked, then when my expression didn't change, she laughed and pulled even closer to me, sliding her hand around my neck. "That's very funny, George."

I reached up, took hold of her wrist, and looked her in the eye. "I'm not joking. She _is_ my girlfriend. And if you don't mind, I'd like to keep it that way. And please don't call her Loony."

This time it was more of a shrinking away than a simple pulling back, and her hand returned to my shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry, I . . . I didn't know."

"And now you do," I said with a shrug and a small smile. I was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Despite the fact I had been with Luna all evening, there was no way Alicia could have known we were actually dating. She'd heard Fred and me making jokes about Luna in the past, and she saw no reason for my attitude towards her to have changed. I should have expected that would be her response.

A full minute passed before she spoke again, and then, "Still, it seems rather odd, don't you think?"

"What does?"

"You and Luna. She's just so . . . weird."

Not being aware of the situation was one thing, but knowing and still being catty was more than I was willing to listen to. "Look, Alicia, you're not doing yourself any favours here. She is who she is and I like her that way just fine. At least she's not trying to play silly games with me."

"Is that what you think?"

"I think I don't like it when people insult my girlfriend."

"Fine. I'll say no more. But if you ask me, you should probably get used to it."

"Well, I didn't ask you, now did I?"

She huffed, but didn't say anything else, simply danced rather stiffly until the song ended, at which point she pursed her lips, nodded slightly, and walked away.

Fred came up beside me and put his arm around my shoulder as Alicia made her way through the crowd. "For being at a wedding, she certainly doesn't look very happy. Aren't people supposed to be happy at these things?"

"I told her I'm dating Luna. I don't think she liked it."

He sighed and shook his head. "Well, brother, you and I are simply going to have to get used to the fact that there are many, many women out there who will be simply devastated to know that we're _both_ officially off the market."

"I guess it was sort of inevitable, wasn't it?"

"Completely. Oh well. If you ask me, it works out better this way for the two of us."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Right then. I need to be finding my lovely wife, and you your lovely girlfriend." He grinned, then was gone as quickly as he'd come.

I turned and my eyes immediately found her, standing off to one side of the room chatting with Harry and Ginny. Almost instantly she looked up and met my gaze, giving me that same knowing smile-and-stare combination that had sent me reeling at Christmas. This time it had an entirely different effect.

I made my way over to them, claiming her free hand as soon as I was within reach. "Do you mind if I borrow her?"

Ginny only smirked, but Harry smiled and said, "Of course not. She's your date."

I paused just long enough for her to set the drink she was still holding on the table, and then I led her away from the crowd and into the small hallway just outside. As soon as I heard the door swing shut behind us, before I even had time to think of what I was doing—because if I had thought I wouldn't have done it—I spun around and pulled her to me, taking her cheek in one hand and kissing her without warning, hard and fast and _vital_.

But then a tension I didn't know I was holding drained out of me, and I relaxed against her, reveling in the sensation of her smooth lips against my own and the warmth spreading through my mind and body from every point of contact.

I did my best to turn that first kiss between us from the frantic, overwhelming urge it had started as into what it was meant to be, something kinder, more tender, more appreciative. More about how fabulous she is than about how much I need her.

But of course I failed miserably, as the two are inseparable.

I finally pulled slightly away from her in defeat, and opened my eyes to see Luna still had her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. "Oh," she whispered.

I leaned my forehead against hers and whispered back, "That's not how I intended . . ."

"I wondered when you were going to do that," she breathed, her eyes still closed.

"I've been wanting to do that all evening. Been wanting to do better than that, actually. I was waiting for the right moment, but I just couldn't wait any longer."

Her eyes shot open, and her voice was strong when she spoke. "What makes you think that wasn't the right moment?"

"I dunno . . . just wasn't how I imagined it, I suppose."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, it's not—"

"I don't suppose I'm very good at kissing."

"What? That's nonsense! It was my—"

"I'm sure I need a lot of practise."

I hesitated a moment, catching that same smile and stare from earlier, and suddenly I understood; Luna was playing a game I was very familiar with, and had been all along. And, as usual, she was at least three steps ahead of me. "You know, you're probably right. After all, practise makes—"

She cut me off again, this time by raising up on her tiptoes and kissing me. Though sudden, this time it _was_ slow and tender, just like the first kiss was supposed to be, and she snaked her arms around my neck, and I mine around her waist. All of my senses were seemingly heightened, and I could smell her hair and her breath and a light perfume I'd never noticed on her before, like powder and candy and some flower I didn't recognize; I could feel the silk of her robes under my hands, her hair just brushing my fingers, the length of her body pressing against mine. Most of all her lips. Her mouth. Her tongue. Warm and slick and tentative and more than a little dizzying.

This time she pulled away first, and all too soon, and I was the one left breathless. "Perfect," I whispered, and she smiled and kissed me again, now intense like the first but lighter, more playful than needy. "Well now you're just showing off," I said. She laughed, and it was the most delightful sound I've ever heard. I took tighter hold of her waist and lifted her up, hugging her to me and burying my face in her hair. "Luna," I started.

"Yes, George?"

"I'm glad I found you. I just wanted you to know that."

"But you didn't find me, George. I found you."

I wasn't about to argue.


	8. Epilogue

About a month after Harry and Ginny's wedding, we were having dinner at her house. She'd made a mince pie using Mum's recipe, and though I'd never let Mum hear me say it, Luna's was nearly as good. Oddly enough, as I remember near everything else about that night, I can't for the life of me remember what we were talking about initially. I only know we were laughing and smiling and simply enjoying each other's company, as we always did, and there was a momentary breach in the conversation.

"Let's get married now, Luna," I said suddenly. I wasn't sure where that had come from, but I liked the sound of it. "Summer's almost over, and soon it'll be too late and we'll have to wait a whole year. So let's just get married now."

"Do you think we've waited long enough? People usually wait longer than a few months before getting married, don't they? Ron and Hermione bickered for eight whole years before they got married. Even Fred and Angelina dated for quite some—"

I cut her off, saying, "I've been waiting all my life to marry you. I don't want to wait anymore."

She smiled gently at me and stood up from her chair. "Let me just grab my cloak first. At this hour it might be a while before we can find someone to perform the ceremony, and earlier it looked like it might rain."

Laughing, I pulled her into my lap. "I think I can wait until Saturday. I'll need to get you a ring. And you know Mum would have kittens if we got married without telling her first. Besides, it's a bit chilly out tonight, and your feet might get cold. Especially if it rains."

"True. I suppose Saturday will work, then. Where shall we have it?"

"At the Burrow, I suppose. Everyone will be there anyway, Mum's invited them all for dinner."

"Can I invite Neville too? He was always nice to me at school, and I think I'd like it if I had a friend there."

"Besides us, you mean."

"Of course besides you lot."

I marveled just a little at how far she'd come, and at how much she'd already become a part of my family. When I first met her she never would have assumed anyone was her friend, much less that she'd be inviting them to her wedding. Now, with my family at least, it was a matter of course.

"You can invite whomever you want, Love. As long as you're there and I'm there, anyone else is just . . . extra."

And so we were married in the summer, just as she had said. Neither one of us wore shoes, and we stood there at the makeshift altar with our big toes touching, completing the physical connection she had thrown into the conversation over a bit of Christmas ham. At the time I think we had all thought it a bit absurd, just another wild Luna-ism that none of us knew how to interpret. But standing there that day, our bare feet on the ground, my rough toes against her smooth, I understood.

And our feet were just the beginning.

When we were pronounced man and wife there was a spark inside my consciousness, and when our lips met for the first time as a married couple there was a shock so powerful that had she not been holding me in place I think I might have stumbled completely away from her. As it was, she seemed to expect it, and when my eyes jolted open they looked straight into hers, a mirror of excitement and emotion.

I don't know how she did it, if it was some spell performed earlier that was only triggered with our kiss, or if she performed her wordless magic at the precise instant our lips touched, or even if perhaps she had the presiding official add something to the words of the ceremony (as I would not have noticed the difference anyway, so wrapped up in her was I). Luna maintains that she had nothing to do with it, but I've asked almost every married person I know if they had the same experience at their own wedding, and every single one of them has denied it.

However it happened, it rocked me to my core, the sudden flux of emotion and feeling and overwhelming, powerful love. Everything that was Luna poured into me, and I was flooded with the depth of her heart. There was light and acceptance there, and the subtle strength of being that I knew to reside in her. I felt what she felt, what she was, and I was awed by the sheer magnitude of her grace. The only coherent thought I could form was something along the lines of "How could any one person love so much?" and for a moment I was stilled against her in shocked wonderment. To me, she was the very essence of love.

Both of our eyes were still open, and when my focus returned I prayed that she was feeling from me what I was from her. She smiled against my lips and my heart surged, and I knew that she understood, that she felt what I was feeling too. My shock having passed, I pressed myself to her more fervently, wrapping my arms around her waist and spinning her in the air, never breaking that contact, never losing that flow.

Kissing my wife was the single most profound experience I've ever had. And it still is, every time.

_A/N: As sorry as I am to see this story come to an end, here it does. Rest assured, gentle readers, there will be outtakes and one-offs from this story in the future, because I just cannot let it go._

_I have so many people to thank for their help on this project: belladonna803, for smoothing and clarifying and generally being encouraging; deenas, for her assistance, support, encouragement, and love, always; gijane7702 for putting up with me and keeping me canon and not making too much fun of me when I get my British wrong (which is pretty much all the time); celtmama, for poking holes and making me get things right, and making the story ever so much better; modestyrabnott, for picking on my words as she lets me pick on hers; nattieb, for just being who she is and letting me pester her incessantly with any little thing that pops into my head; ozmakatiebell, for being my George/Luna senior and giving me the idea in the first place; cuteej4, for having enough faith in me to break out of her comfort zone; natertatersmom, for dragging me into this in the first place; and most of all to allipotter, for not being afraid to tell me when I'm wrong, for always being honest with me, for being this story's biggest supporter, for being my friend, and for giving me the push—and the guts—to continue. Thank you, and I love you all!_

_And to my readers, thank you for following my story and for the kind words you've left. Even if you didn't review, thank you for reading it through. I hope you've enjoyed it. My main goal in writing this story was to pass it off as a plausible ship and make others fall in love with these two characters as I have, and if you now believe, as I do, that it _is_ plausible and that George and Luna really would be fantastic together, go spread the George/Luna love! Seek it out, write some of your own, and when you do, kindly let me know._


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